


The Next Big Thing

by Castielchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Castiel Believe's Everyone Has Good in Them, Castiel Just Wants to Feel Loved, Castiel Wants to Be a Model, Castiel Whump, Dark, Description in Notes, He's wrong, Human Castiel, Hurt No Comfort, I'm a horrible person and going to hell, M/M, Model Castiel, Naive Castiel, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Teen Castiel, Trigger Warnings, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielchester/pseuds/Castielchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To feel beautiful, that's all Castiel wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Big Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Castiel is a young boy who believes everyone is innately good. He'd been trying to pursue a modeling career, despite his boyfriend's protests, so when the opportunity presents itself in a small coffee shop he jumps on it. His mistake is soon learned. 
> 
> (Trigger Warning for Rape) No Beta so read around the mistakes.

 

_He had given him attention, embarrassingly enough, that was all Castiel needed to find himself in the hotel room that day. He just wanted someone to feel for him the way he felt for Dean. The man had told him how beautiful he was, told him he could be a model. That’s all he wanted. To feel beautiful._

" _Castiel_?"

The inquisitive voice of the man he had met in the coffee shop shatters the silence within the room, _Alastair_ he quickly remembers. Castiel smiles back timidly, smoothing his shirt unconsciously and nodding. "Ye-…yeah" he stammers, cursing himself for the apprehension, fearing he would do something to screw this up. He quickly looks to the small camcorder, currently being shoved in his face, with a puzzled glance and confused head tilt, "For audition" Alastair answers, as if reading the boys mind, pulling back some as Castiel looks more apprehensive, “Audition? For _what_?” he asks in a small voice and the man before him smiles more, “My agency Castiel, I want _you_ to model for _us_.” Castiel’s eyes widen and he feels excitement bubble within him. _Could this really be it_?

"So if you could just sit right here, I have some questions to go over,” The man says it so amiably that Castiel almost scoffs, remembering how Dean had berated him, telling him that people were, in fact, _not_ innately good and he couldn’t go around trusting mere strangers. He smiles and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling his legs together and placing his hands in his lap. Boy would Dean owe him an apology now! The questions are basic;

 ****_Where are you from?_

"Kansas"

 ****_How old are you?_

“Seventeen”

 ****_Have you ever done this before?_

Castiel shakes his head, “I’ve always wanted to though.” He quickly clears his throat as, once again, the camera is poised straight at him and subtly inching closer, the distance between them diminishing. "Why don't you tell us your name" he shifts his tone so it’s heavy.

 ****_Who are us?_

He forces a smile, "C-Castiel?” it comes out as more of a question, but he’s confused as to why he must state his name _again_ and to the camera no less. Alastair lowers the device, the smile arched on his lips making his eyes dance with amusement, "Are you nervous?" Castiel only chuckles a little and bows his head, "Is it _that_ obvious?" he looks back up, the man's eyes soften to a strange look of forced comfort, moving closer, he points to a pin sticking from Castiel’s shirt, "Wanna tell me about that?" He asks, Castiel guesses, in some futile attempt at calming the mood, nevertheless he smiles and brushes his fingers across the small angel pin, "It was my mother's." He allows the memory of that moment her frail hand had set it in his try and advert himself from the tense situation before him.

"It's very beautiful" Alastair quips and leans towards the boy before him, " _You're_ very beautiful." The way he speaks drips into Castiel’s ears eerily; words laced with a false sweetness that makes Castiel’s smile falter, but he pulls it back quickly, thanking the man and attempting to mask whatever it is inside of him that’s trying to create doubt.

"You don't have to be nervous" Alastair chuckles, rippling the tension, speaking as if he couldn't understand why on earth anyone would be edgy in this situation. So the young boy forces a relaxed look and nods; Alastair takes that moment to place his hand on Castiel’s face gently, "Just relax,” His fingertips move slowly, as if he were inspecting rare merchandise, "How long have you wanted to model?" A shudder shakes him, "S-Since I was young" Castiel replies, glancing anxiously at the door, the uneasiness crushing his chest like a thousand ton weight. "Well you're very pretty" his finger traces Castiel’s jutted cheekbone softly, " _very_ pretty." The man's eyes are fixed hungrily on the teen, the gaze of a predator looking at easy prey and Castiel flinches and gathers courage as he feels the hand suddenly drop and caress his side, "I should go" he pushes his hand, trying to get up, but he's quickly pushed back down, "We're not done yet.” The camera is once again shoved back into his frowning face, "Please _sir_ -" Castiel starts as his legs are suddenly being pulled at, attempting to push him back onto the bed. "Wh-what are you doing, _stop!_ " he exclaims sharply, but Alastair keeps tugging and pushing; "I said stop" Castiel musters finally, a quivering voice, and pushes the older man’s chest, but he just hisses and flings his feeble attempts aside.

Castiel finds himself struggling in a blind panic now, swinging instinctively to get this man's weight off of him; his efforts are unsuccessful however and suddenly his captor pulls back and smacks him with such a force he falls back onto the bed, blood trickling down from his nose. "We're _not_ done" Alastair growls, his eyes turning a menacing dark, twinkling with a pleasure that the young boy had never seen before; as if Castiel’s fear is the most joyous thing he'd ever experienced. A strangled sob falls from Castiel’s lips as he tries to get up again, ignoring the pain and fear that envelopes his entirety, pushing his captors face to deter him, but it is futile, as he is grabbed again and slung back onto the bed violently.

Quickly the man works on top of him, smirking down at the terrified noises that escape Castiel’s throat; holding his chin, placing his face close and running his tongue across Castiel’s tear streaked cheek, "Shh, it's okay" he whispers as one would to a frightened child, lapping up the salty streams, "I'm going to make you famous." Placing his hands on Castiel’s shirt collar, tearing at it, violently shaking him as he rips it off, the teen’s words a muddled mess, imperceptible, masked by cries and too soon his captor is able to tear the shirt off and throw it aside swiftly, gazing down at his prize, possibly speculating how old Castiel really is, his soft, acne free features causing age confusion often.

In midst of his hesitation Castiel takes the chance and again tries to thrust his assailant off but he's quick and retaliates with a fist straight into the side of his head, leaving him dizzy and disoriented, a ringing developing in his ears. He gathers himself enough to clutch at Alastair’s arm, digging his nails into the sweaty flesh as his belt is violently pulled from his jeans; vain attempts are all smacked away though, his assailant pressing his weight more on the small one underneath him.

When Alastair has finally undressed the boy he yanks out a blade, flashing it in front of Castiel to shut him up, bringing it close, relishing the whimper that fills the room as he places the blunt side of the blade to his victims quivering lips, as if to let him fully comprehend the horror of the situation. Keeping a light grip, as if to not –yet— cut the boy, he takes his free hand and runs it through Castiel’s hair, intertwining it in his fingers, a small smile curving his lips as he brings the blade up and snags a few of the strands, bringing them close to his nose, taking a breath, as if it intoxicated him.

He quickly pockets the strands and places his hands on the sides of Castiel’s body, lowering his face close to his stomach, taking a deep breath, and traveling back up, practically _smelling_  the sweet fear the boy was sweating, stopping right above Castiel’s lips, "You're going to be famous.” His sickly sweet voice evokes more tears as Castiel manages to open his mouth, shaking his head fearfully. _Not like this_. Turning his head to the side the young boy realizes the small camcorder is positioned on a small stand next to them, the red _REC_ light taunting him mercilessly.

Alastair settles onto him more, once again intertwining his fingers through the boy's hair, but this time he grips tighter and pulls Castiel’s head to the side, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to his prey's exposed neck, biting and sucking feverishly. Castiel merely moans in fear, shaking his head, " _Please_ don't..." but the words are ignored as the older man begins to work his own jeans off, imbibing Castiel's small moan of pain, as he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of his preys throat; feeling him cease in movement, his body paralyzed by shock and agony.

And all too suddenly his trembling legs are being pushed at, in an attempt to get his knees up so his assailant can settle in between; pushing his mouth on Castiel’s to silence him as he uses his large hands to push on his victim's inner thighs. Castiel struggles against the harsh grip, his groans muffled and distorted.

"You're going to be _so_ famous Castiel"

                                                                                                -/-

Castiel feels a searing pain tear through his body and the cry that stumbles from his lips is like that of a wounded soldier desperately trying to limp from the battlefield. He clutches the sheets underneath him as his aggressor viciously strikes his forehead with the blunt side of a blade.

Never had he felt a pain like this. _Never_.

Crushing Castiel’s petite body and panting over his lips, Alastair thrusts mercilessly, the bed shaking at the mere vigor of the assaults; he wants to hear his prey cry. Castiel is left to gape up at the ceiling, tears obscuring his vision and sobs plaguing his body, he tries to think of something, _anything_.

_He and Dean singing together, their favorite songs they usually sing in the Impala. Their god awful voices mixing together in a cacophony that only they could enjoy._

What would Dean think of him now?

_He and Sam were definitely due for a good game of pool, no matter that Castiel was always destroyed by the tall man._

Would he even be able to go out anymore?

Alastair truculently grabs Castiel’s chin so they are face to face, forcing him to look into his icy gaze and break what little piece of amity he could conjure, he moans as another vicious tremor frames his body. Lips skim down, nudging at Castiel’s collarbone tenderly, warm fingertips trace the surface of his skin, continuing over places previously untouched. Castiel gasps for a reasonable breath, his lungs seeming to refuse any of the oxygen he tries frantically to collect.

The young boy soon feels the pain in his brutally assaulted bottom numb, almost as if the blood had become a natural lubricant for his captor's cock; Alastair hastens his thrusts at this, panting his warm breath on Castiel’s lips as his fingers continue to flint over exposed flesh.

All too suddenly the man's body above him quakes and he lets out a loud moan, wrapping his strong hands around Castiel’s throat and squeezes tightly as he climaxes leaving the younger struggling for a breath, clawing at his hands in a vain effort to free himself. After what feels like forever his assailant finishes his orgasm and slows, freeing his grip, allowing Castiel to take his vulnerability and throw his knee into his lower stomach, flinching as the man above him lets out a yelp and releases.

Castiel acts fast, pushing himself despite his pain filled daze, turning and tumbling to the ground face first, coughing desperately and bleeding profusely. His assailant is yelling, but Castiel has the entire ocean in his ears, hearing nothing but the cascading of waves. He reaches his arms out to grab the knife that had fallen from the bed and landed near the wall, but as his fingertips brush the hilt his breath is knocked, Alastair’s foot viciously hurling into his side and, without ceremony, he’s straddled from behind.

Castiel panics further and tries to push the man off of his back, but is stopped by a hand shoving his head into the carpet leaving the boy to stare at the wall defeatedly, his vision blurred by tears and yelps of determination are reduced to sobs. He cannot plead anymore. Just cry loudly.

As if to pull him from his haze Alastair rears back and throws a punch at Castiel’s back. He cries out. _Another punch. Another. Another_. And he continues to throw his fists to his prey’s back until his knuckles are bruised.

 _Can't breathe._  Castiel lay panting, wheezing and paralyzed as the man starts to shove his newly erected cock back into Castiel's abused bottom, 

"This is it honey" He grunts, "Your big break!"

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, the idea for this came from a movie I saw called Victim. Now I will start my descent to hell.


End file.
